


It's All Fun And Games Until You End Up In Another Universe

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Being sent to another universe because of a trick-sy Asgardian, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Is A Saucy Devil, Confusion, F/M, Infatuation with a crazy mercernary, M/M, Magic, Magical Pregnancy, Main character is easily annoyed..., Marvel Universe, POV First Person, Painkillers, Spells & Enchantments, Steve Rogers Being An Adorable Gentleman, This fiction makes no sense, Tony Stark Is Strangely Lovable, Tranquilizers, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie Tavistock thought that evening would be as uneventful as any other, occupying herself with her art-work...</p>
<p>That was until, somehow, a certain Asgardian trickster appeared in her house and thought it would be amusing to cast her into the Marvel Universe... </p>
<p>Completely dazed and disorientated, she makes the acquaintance of the Avengers and other fictional characters...</p>
<p>Needless to say, an array of antics and mishaps ensue...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Joke Is Not Remotely Funny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kind of scared about posting this, because it's the first fiction I've done in 'First Person POV'. Also because...I'm worried it'll suck :3 but I'll find out.
> 
> Feel free to comment, and offer any critique :D I'm open to advice and suggestions ^.^
> 
> On a side-note, in case anyone wonders, I'm not at all like this character. Where she is fairly confident about getting 'mouthy' with people, I am...the opposite XD I'm far too shy! Hehe!
> 
> Hope you like this fic, or at the least, don't mind it :D

I heard the clock chime six times from the living room. I momentarily glanced up from my drawing-a piece that would be part of my college coursework-giving the clock and its swaying pendulum a cursory look, before returning my focus to the work before me. I breathed in the oddly pleasant scent of my sketching pencils as I meticulously drew the detail on Bucky Barnes' metal prosthetic limb.

My project more or less screamed 'fan-girl' but I was beyond caring. I fully intended to produce a large scale drawing of the Avengers, poised and bracing themselves for combat. Few might have called it artistic genius, some would have deemed it an unhealthy obsession. Most people had simply asked me if I was infatuated with one of the actors.

Being besotted with Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan might have been somewhat of a motivator, but I could also appreciate that they were inspirations for my creativity.

And not just because they were pinnacles of masculinity, with chiselled jawlines, beautiful, shimmering pools for eyes, plush mouths and bodies that could make women across the globe salivate.

My hormone-fuelled mind drifted quickly, and I had to mentally shake myself-not solely to cast aside thoughts that would distract me from my work, but also to remove the asinine expression plastering my face. I began drawing Bucky's tousled, shoulder-length locks, singing quietly to provide background noise. A few peaceful moments passed, alternating between steady maoeuvring of my pencil and deft flicks, and ambitious attempts at hitting high notes of the song I was singing.

That was until a glowing green light, akin to an aurora, filled the dining room. I ceased singing and dropped my pencil, gaping in terrified awe at the sight before. The pages of my sketchbook flapped and my hair flew, strands whipping me in the face, as thought a violent gust of wind was blowing through my house. I let out a low, fearful whimper, seemingly frozen solid to my seat. Cold sweat prickled my back and my heart was going at ten to the dozen. The emerald light began _**shrinking**_ as if returning to its enigmatic source, dancing wildly about a vaguely human figure stood in the middle of my dining room. The mysterious wind died down. My body was wracked with apprenhension at what the emerald light would reveal, and whether my demise would follow shortly after.

I clutched at the dining table, nails leaving indentations in the embossed, PVC tablecloth as the light faded. The person I saw, standing in front of me, made my fear quickly turn to bewilderment.

 

"Tom Hiddleston?" I asked the tall, lean man, donning his Loki garb. In retrospect, it had been stupid saying that, seeing as most actors don't conjure up a funky, green lightshow and magically appear in people's houses.

"I know not of whom you speak, mortal. **I** am _**Loki Laufeyson**_ , of Jotunheim and formerly of Asgard, god of mischief and madness-" Not-Tom- Hiddleston-but-Loki-Laufeyson announced with grandeur.

"Yes, I know, I've watched the movies. You don't have to go all comic-con on me." I interrupted abruptly, failing to appreciate the reality (a warped one at that) of the situation.

" ** _Movies_** ? Do not test me, mortal, with your foolish japery!"

"Hey, you're not entitled to get sassy with me. You've just appeared in my house, out of bloody nowhere, **_uninvited_**   I might add-so you better not run your mouth off at me, **Laufeyson**!"

"Impudent, mewling little quim! You dare speak to a god in such a tone?!"

"Call me quim again and I'll dare to shove a HB pencil up your rectum, you ostentatious git!" I spat venomously. Loki was agog, perhaps vexed-for the first time-by a rather unwisely irascible mortal being.

"Though I am loathe to admit it, I find your aggressiveness both intriguing and admirable. You impress me, mortal." Loki offered his praise in an airy manner. I arched my eyebrows and pushed my lower lip out in a contemplative pout, making no attempt at being benign.

 

"Hm. Thanks. Sorry about calling you a 'git'. And for threatening you with a pencil." I mumbled my apology reluctantly. The Asgardian held up a hand majestically, as if to accept.

"Let us speak of our brief conflict no more. I do not care for the exchange of pleasantries expected from us by the rules of social etiquette." He replied tersely.

"It is all rather tedious, isn't it?" I conceded, with a small nod. "So... _ **why**_ exactly are you here?" I inquired.

"Truthfully? I grew weary and sought to occupy my time. What better way to do so than by travelling to the Midgard of this universe and unleashing my powers of malevolence and cruel mischief on your people?" He explained, with a remarkably refreshing honesty.

"So you came here...because you were bored?"

"Yes."

"And because you want to inflict emotional and physical agony on this planet for your own amusement?" I pointed to the ground, as if the carpet of my dining room represented the entirety of Earth.

"Precisely." Loki nodded, with a satisfied smile. I stared at him for a few seconds, brows knitting together in a perplexed frown.

"Well, I can't say you have no goals in life. But isn't that kind of... _ **harsh**_ ?" I held out my hands, cocking my head to one side as I put the question to him. Loki raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if in deliberation.

 

"Yes, I suppose it is." He acknowledged, before narrowing his piercing eyes at me, his lips curling into a malicious sneer. "But why would I be entertained by anything less?" He asked ominously. I shrank in my seat, stomach contorting into painful knots. Loki approached the table, and leaned forward, resting one hand on its surface, the other clutching a sceptre. His eyes bore into my soul, never leaving my face.

"And perhaps I shall start with you, _**Sophie Tavistock**_ ? How should I throw your pitifully short life into turmoil, puny mortal? Oh I think know!" His voice had taken on a sinister rasping growl, and he stood straight and pointed the sleek sceptre at me. I gawked in horror, panic gripping my whole body.

"No, no, no, please don't! No! Don't kill me!" I pleaded through choked sobs, tears starting to cascade down my cheeks.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you. No, I'm simply sending you to a world so like your own yet so different. Whether you live or die there, only time will seek to tell. But you'll have nobody you know from this world. To die alone and afraid...that is far, _**far**_ worse than simply killing you where you are seated." His smile widened into something jagged, wicked and terrifying.

"No!" I wailed, springing from my chair, and backing into the radiator behind me.

"Give my _**brother**_ my regards, won't you?" He said, before a ray of violet light struck and encompassed me, the dining room of my house dissolving rapidly. The last sound I heard was deep, echoing laughter.

 

I was sent hurtling through a vortex, which shone in a myriad of colours. The sensations acting on me were similar to that of falling down a flight of stairs, multiplied by about fifty. I shrieked and cried in utter despair, praying that I would wake up suddenly in my bed, safe between my quilt and sheets. Instead, I kept hurtling through this cosmic tunnel, spinning around nauseatingly, arms and legs flailing. When I saw the skyline of a city at the end of the vortex, I was both relieved and worried, wondering the heck I'd been sent.

The combination of relief and anxiety made a prompt transition into petrified hysteria when the vague image of the city morphed into pale grey slabs. More precisely, I was being thrown onto a fucking pavement. _**Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit**_ , was all that was occupying my thoughts. I flung my hands out in front of me, in a measly attempt at reducing the impact between my face and the asphalt I was quickly heading towards. Bracing myself for pain, I let out a pathetic whine from the back of my throat, squeezing my eyes shut and tensing every muscle in my body.

Sadly, no amount of preparation was able to cushion the jarring thud as I hit the pavement, and rolled violently across the hard surface. A chorus of yells and screams from pedestrians acted as a bizarre fanfare for my unceremonious arrival into this different world. From the stinging and searing pain across my back, stomach, arms and thighs, I figured I'd scraped those parts of my anatomy. _**Great, this'll really help my problems with sciatica,**_ I ruminated bitterly, a bruised, scraped-up heap on the ground, a huddle of concerned but morbidly fascinated people surrounding me. I lay there, peering up at alarmed faces and a decidedly beautiful, azure sky, bleary from my ordeal.

"Where'd she come from?" A distinctly American voice asked, rather rhetorically.

"What happened to her?" Another American voice asked. _**Well, I always wanted to visit America,**_ I remarked mentally.

"Jesus, someone call for an ambulance!" A woman called out.

"Hold on, everyone calm down. We'll sort this out." A man, with a soft, deep voice, insisted, gently pushing through the crowd. My vision was starting to blur and my head was throbbing, so I couldn't quite pick out his facial features. He was of an impressive stature, tall and muscular. I noticed he was accompanied by another man, with dark, shaggy hair, slightly shorter but also of a strong build. I groaned in pain, holding out my hand, seeking comfort. The taller of the two men, the one who'd spoken up, knelt beside me and clasped my hand in his own warm one.

"You're gonna be okay." He assured me soothingly. I felt my eyelids drooping.

"We're gonna get you some help, get you patched up in no time. You'll be alright, I promise." He told me, before I blacked out right then and there.

 


	2. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! :D It was originally intended to be a bit longer, but I was concerned about it becoming a bit staid if I wrote for too long.
> 
> Hope it's okay? I know this fiction isn't too popular, but hey, it's fun to write and that's what counts ^.^
> 
> Enjoy, my groovy readers! :)

When I woke up, I could hear calming music being played from another room. Judging by the sound and instruments, I guessed it was from either the thirties or forties.

Peeling my eyes open slowly, blinking at the light spilling into the room, I found myself tucked into a king-size bed. My head was resting against gloriously soft, stacked pillows, and my body swathed in a vast, cool quilt. I slowly turned my head to one side, and saw a sleek, polished black chest of drawers, with silver handles. A few cans of deodorant and small bottles of cologne were meticulously arranged on its surface. Directly beside me was a bedside table, also jet black with glinting silver handles, topped with a lamp and a sketchbook.

Both intrigued and confused by my new surroundings, I shifted around beneath the quilt, preparing to push myself up into a sitting position. A mellow voice spoke gently from my other side.

"Good, you've woken up. How are you feeling?" A man inquired. I turned and squinted at him, his face partially obstructed by the glare of sunshine.

"Okay, I suppose." I croaked, my throat dry as sand. "For someone who was dropped on a pavement." I added sullenly. The man chuckled lightly.

"Well, miraculously, aside from some mild surface wounds, you've not suffered any injuries or shown any signs of concussion. I was pretty much brought here to patch you up and sit here until you wake up." He explained.

"Oh." Was all I could reply with. The sunshine faded, to reveal an astonishingly familiar face. "Aren't you...Mark Ruffalo?" I questioned him, confounded. The man nudged his glassed up the bridge of his nose, a glimpse of bemusement passing over his face.

"Um, not quite. Someone you know? I just look like him, I guess. I'm Dr Bruce Banner. Though you've probably heard people calling me...or the _**other**_ _ **guy**_ -the Hulk." He told me, his expression pinched and uncomfortable. I recalled Loki telling me that he was sending me to a 'world so like my own, yet so different'. At first, I was surprisingly unbothered at being in the Marvel Universe. I would soon realise that indifference was simply the calm before the storm.

"Oh yeah. Sorry. Mark Ruffalo is from my-um, never mind. It's nice to meet you, Dr Banner. My name's Sophie. Sophie Tavistock." I politely introduced myself. Bruce offered a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Sophie. Please, call me Bruce. Dr Banner feels kind of...impersonal and clinical." He said amiably. I returned his smile, then began peering around at the bedroom with its minimalistic chique theme, the forties-style music still audible in the background.

 

"Bruce, you couldn't tell me where I am, could you?" I inquired weakly.

"You're in Stark Tower. Or, as it's being referred to as these days, the Avengers' Tower. More precisely, you're currently in Steve and Bucky's personal quarters. They found you out on the sidewalk and brought you in to get you medical attention. Do you recall?" He looked briefly concerned, but I dispelled the worry when I nodded.

"Yes, I remember." I assured him. "Wait...Steve and Bucky?"

"Yeah...Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes? Captain America and the ex-Winter Soldier?"

"Oh my God..." I muttered breathlessly. The magnitude of the situation was starting to weigh heavily on me. I was _**in**_ the Marvel Universe, _**in**_ the Avengers' Tower, _**in**_ the living space of two characters, who were the figments of someone's imagination on _**my**_   Earth. While I could become engrossed in the movies and fan fiction, actually being in another universe, away from my world, away from my _**home**_ , my family and friends-made me lament what I'd often taken for granted.

"Sophie, are you sure you're alright?" Bruce placed his book on the other bedside table, and leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. I stared at him, rendered speechless.

"I-" I was about to confide in the mild-mannered doctor/Avenger, when there was a knock on the door-which had been left ajar.

When it was opened, I saw the tall, muscular, Adonis-like frame of not-Chris-Evans-but-Steve-Rogers, carrying a tray with a glass of water and a plate of toast balanced on top.

 

"Hi, Steve." Bruce greeted his friend pleasantly.

"Hi there, Bruce. Just thought I'd bring our guest something to eat." Steve raised the tray, as if verifying his reason for being in his own room. "How are you feeling?" He asked me, a trademark of his kindly disposition.

"Okay, I suppose. A little...disorientated." I couldn't bring myself to confess the intermittment feelings of loss and sadness. "Thank you. For helping me." I added, diminuitively. I also had to remind myself I wasn't speaking to a famous actor, but the character he was well known for depicting.

That didn't make him any less gorgeous, however. My cheeks were warm and flushed as I spoke to him. With a smile as bright as the panels of morning sunshine breaking through the windows, he replied modestly-

"You're welcome. Though, I couldn't exactly leave you lying in the street, potentially wounded. Especially seeing as you arrived under such seemingly unusual circumstances." Steve removed the sketchbook from bedside table's surface and rested the tray in its place.

"Oh. I suppose I should tell you how I ended up here..." I conceded sheepishly.

"That would be a good place to start."

" _ **How**_ do I start?" I asked myself. "The thing is...I'm...this is going to sound absolutely mad-"

"Believe me, we've encountered enough crazy stuff. I doubt your story is any worse."

"I'm from another universe." I blurted out. Steve and Bruce were perfectly nonchalant, so I decided to continue. "I'm from a universe where _**all of you**_...are just characters from comic books and movie adaptions. From a franchise called Marvel. _**This**_ world, doesn't exist. Your appearance is based on actors, who portray you in the movies from the universe I come from. I ended up in this universe because of _**Loki**_. I was just at home, doing some project work...and suddenly-he just appeared. Out of nowhere. Few minutes later, I'm sent careening through a cosmic tunnel and onto the pavement of... _ **New York**_ , I'm guessing." I explained, reaching out to take the glass of water from the tray.

 

"Damn Loki." Steve muttered sharply under his breath. "I'm really sorry, this must all be a shock to you. I know what it feels like to wake up in what seems a whole other world." He offered a sympathetic look.

"I technically don't exist in this world. Neither...neither does my family. Or my friends. I'm all alone. I've got nobody." I felt my throat seize up, as I tried as hard as possible not to burst into tears. I took a sip of my water, my teeth clacking against the glass.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay. I don't know if it's any consolation, but for the meantime, you've got _**us**_. We're gonna try and find Loki. If he can travel to your universe and send people here, he can sure as hell send people back." Steve said firmly.

"Finding Loki when he doesn't **want** to be found is like searching through a haystack for a needle, Steve." Bruce expressed his doubt.

"But we'll _**try**_. That's gotta count for something, right?" Steve looked at Bruce intently. The doctor returned his levelled stare, as good as answering the super-soldier's question. The bedroom door was pushed open again, and a very familiar, very handsome Bucky Barnes appeared. He met my watchful gaze warily, before his eyes flickered to Steve.

"I talked to Stark. He's passed the message on to Fury and Coulson-they're gonna want to see her." The brunet informed him.

"Thanks, Buck." Steve turned his head to the fellow super-soldier as he expressed his gratitude. When he spoke, his voice was remarkably soft and... _ **loving**_. He then immediately pushed his face close and pressed a kiss on Bucky's beautiful, pouting mouth. The brunet gazed up at his taller _**lover**_ with wanton eyes.

"Whoa." I said, gawping oafishly at the both of them. "Well, that certainly never happened back home. At least, not outside of fan-fiction. Maybe being in this universe isn't so bad?" Steve and Bruce chuckled, but I received only a gelid smile from Bucky.

"This universe?" He arched his brows at me as he made the query. I felt my stomach twist into knots at his rather frosty attitude towards me.

"Umm. I was sent here, by Loki, from another universe. A universe where **this** universe, and all of **_you_** , are fictional."

"I see. Well. If you want to stay in this universe, you're gonna need your _**own**_ room. You can't exactly sleep between me and Steve." Bucky told me briskly, folding his arms across his chest in a show of authority. I blushed crimson at the thought, and kept my eyes peeled away from his metal arm, for fear of antagonising him further.

 

"Buck, go easy on her, please. She's still in shock." Steve rebuked his best friend and partner gently, ignoring my reddened face.

"Yeah. She looks really alarmed." Bucky said sarcastically. I tightened my hold on the glass of water in my hands, looking at him forlornly.

"Buck, please." Steve entreated. All of us remained silent for a moment, with nothing but the sound of the mellifluous forties music playing from outside of the bedroom. The silence was broken by Bucky giving a repentant sigh.

"What's your name?" He asked, his manner more cordial, arms unfolded.

"Sophie Tavistock. Nice to meet you." I replied genially

"James Buchanan Barnes. Though, you probably already know that, right?"

"Yes. Would you prefer me to call you 'James'?" I inquired timidly, suddenly aware of how intimate using his nickname might be. I finally received my first smile from the brunet.

"You can call me 'Bucky'. And it's nice to meet you too. Sorry if I came off as abrasive. I'm not too good with meeting new people." He admits, with a sadness in his enchanting eyes.

"It's alright. It must be a little weird to have an eighteen year old girl, from another universe, in the bed you share with your...boyfriend?" My voice faltered with the awkwardness, and all three men chuckled.

"Kinda. Put it this way, it's not a regular occurence. We prefer not to have a guest when we're in bed together." The ex-assassin chimed, a raffish smile tugging at his lovely mouth. His blond lover rolled his eyes. I blushed again, my cheeks burning.

"Ha...um....err...."

"Don't feel obligated to respond to that, Sophie. He's just being a jerk." Steve gently dug his elbow into Bucky's abdomen. Bucky's mouth upturned into a petulant pout.

"Punk." He pretended to bristle. The two of them were as heart-warmingly adorable together as most of the fictions, I'd ever read, made them out to be.

 

"Sophie, do you think you'd be able to try standing up? I just want to make sure you weren't physically debilitated by your landing." Bruce rose from his seat, approaching the bed-side.

"Yeah, sure thing." I replied softly. I dragged back the quilt and returned my water to the tray.

"Slowly, though." He added his word of caution. I hummed my acknowledgement, and very steadily eased my legs over the edge of the bed. I felt a sudden, sharp ache in my lower back, and hissed at the discomfort.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Just...my back. It's hurting. Besides that, I'm fine." I said, pushing myself off of the bed. Apparently I'd spoken too soon, as immediately following my assertion, I collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"Sophie!" Steve gasped.

"I'm going to put that down to a combination of hitting concrete and being sent hurtling through God-knows-what from another universe." Bruce remarked drily, before hurrying to my assistance and helping me up. "There we go. Nice and steady." He supported me with one arm, while his other hand had a firm hold of my own arm. My back and legs were aching incessantly. Bruce took one look at my grimace of pain, before promptly informing me-

"I'll get you some _**strong**_ painkillers."

"Thank you." I murmured.

"Let's get you walking around. See if that helps. Steve, Bucky, can I hand Sophie over to you? I'll have to go down to the lab for the pain relief." Bruce tentatively released his supporting hold on me.

"Of course. C'mon, Sophie." Steve said, taking Bruce's place.

 

"Ughh...why do I suddenly feel like I've had a stampede of horses over my body?" I groaned, as the blond super-soldier helped me walk out of his and Bucky's bedroom.

"Blame Loki. We usually do" Bucky piped up from behind myself and Steve.

"So, was he the one who **_actually_**   broke the toaster yesterday, Buck?" Steve inquired sardonically

"Yes! Where's the trust in our relationship, Stevie?"

"It's not trust that's the issue. It's just awful convenient that whenever something gets broken, when you're the only one in close proximity, it's Loki who apparently came and did it." 

"He's got destructive tendencies!"

"Uh huh. Yeah. He's not the only one, Buck. I've seen you when you're trying to figure out how to use the computer."

"In all fairness, computers can be pretty darn pesky." I pointed out.

"Don't encourage him, Sophie."

"I _**do not**_ have destructive tendencies with the computer! Sure, I get a little mad from time to time-"

"So yelling at an inanimate object **'** What are you, you piece of _**s-word**_? Why do you _**effing**_ exist?! What  _ **effed**_   up  _ **effer**_ decided to make you while my ass was on ice?! I'm gonna _**effing**_ rip out your _**electrical wires**_ and ram them into your _**weird holes**_! Stupid _**effing**_ , _**c-word**_ juggling, _**d-word**_ hole licking, turd riding _**f-word**_ fest **'** is just 'a little mad'?" Steve questioned his best friend and lover.

"Okay. Maybe I do have some...anger issues with modern technology." Bucky reluctantly conceded.

"Hmm. Reminds me of myself when I'm using my printer." I chipped into the conversation.

 

 


	3. Holy Shit, My Facebook Doesn't Exist

After being carefully assisted over to their black, leather sofa, I grunted in discomfort at the sharp pains careening from my lower back through my leg. Wincing, I swung my legs up onto the sofa and lay back in as comfortable a position as I could achieve.

"I hope Bruce brings the painkillers quickly. My back feels completely wrecked. Thank you, both, for helping me." I said to Steve and Bucky, combing my fingers through my hair in a gesture of restlessness.

"Don't worry about it, Sophie. Just rest up until Bruce brings the medication, and you'll be back to your usual self in no time." Steve assured me kindly, patting me gently on the shoulder

"In all fairness, my usual self still consists of resting and being lazy." I pointed out. Both he and Bucky smirked.

"Yeah, well, it's a miracle folks your age are able to drag themselves out of bed. I'd say you're doing pretty well." Bucky remarked. I let out a bark of laughter, hissing at the ensuing pain in my back.

"I deserve a medal or something. Ouch." I chuckled sadly, pressing a hand to my lower back. In the brief moment of silence, I listened to the soothing sound of the forties music filling the apartment. "This sounds lovely." I told them, sincerely.

"Glad you think so. Tony was decent enough to have a record player put in the apartment, to make us feel more at ease-" Steve explained.

"-after making numerous jokes about us being nostalgic, technologically-incompetent geriatrichs, of course." Bucky interjected crisply.

"That's Tony for you." Steve said, almost affectionately.

 

Bucky bristled slightly at this.

"Huh. Well. I find it irritating. _**Anyway**_ -"

"-don't take it the wrong way, Buck." Steve said, as if being especially cautious of Bucky's feelings.

"I didn't take it _**any**_ way. I was just _**saying**_ I find Stark frustrating. And arrogant. And condescending." Bucky huffed.

"I don't mean to be impolite, but I only heard 'irritating' at first..." I commented meekly.

"It was an _**implicit**_ statement!" Bucky insisted.

"So, 'irritating' means 'frustrating', 'arrogant' and 'condescending'?" Steve extrapolated

"No, Tony Stark means all of those things." Bucky corrected his lover.

"Oh, so he's an _**adjective**_ now? He encompasses all of those traits? He's like some ultra-trait!" Steve suggested.

"Oo, I like that. It could be used in this sort of context-'Hey, I met this boy, he was really handsome but then I found out he was soooo _**Tony Stark**_   and I couldn't bear to speak to him'." I piped up.

"Sounds about right."

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" Bucky questioned Steve, folding his arms, with an injured expression on his face. Steve immediately swooped in to console his loved one, cradling his cheek and nuzzling him.

"No, I'm not, Buck. I promise. I didn't mean for it to come across that way. I know it's something you're sensitive about, so I shouldn't have poured salt on that wound. I'm sorry, baby. Still my Bucky-charm?" Steve spoke tenderly. I still wrinkled my face up at the atrocious pet name. It was both sickening and adorable simultaneously.

"'Course I am, punk, don't be stupid. I'll always be your Bucky-charm, Stevie." Bucky rallied, kissing Steve softly on the mouth.

"What did I just witness?" I muttered.

 

Following the short-lived 'disagreement' between the two super-soldiers, they both decided to start preparing lunch. Only for two such loved-up guys, 'preparing lunch' involved momentarily distracting one another from set tasks with adoring kisses, tweaking one another's glorious butts or playfully tickling each other. I could just hear a range of squawks and _**giggles**_. It was remarkable to hear two of the most attractive men on the damn planet  _ **giggling**_.

I tried focusing on the beautiful music still playing, filling the apartment with its soothingly sedate melody.

Unfortunately, the mood was somewhat spoiled by shrieks of-

" _ **Ooo**_ , Bucky-stop it!" Or-

"St- **EVE** ! Ooo!"

Yes. It served as quite the distraction. There was also a strange sense of disappointment-I'd pictured the eagerly shipped Stucky relationship as something more intense with not so much... _ **squeaking**_.

I soon cracked and decided to not-so-subtly interrupt their pitiful attempts at fondle-free cooking-

"Um, you wouldn't happen to have an iPad or tablet of some sort, would you?" I hollered over to them.

"We do! I'll go fetch it. In need of some entertainment while you're waiting?" Steve called back.

"Yeah. Something like that." I replied.

"Going on the Youtube?" Bucky inquired, whilst Steve had whisked away to retrieve the iPad. I had to resist the urge to smirk- ' _ **the Youtube**_ ', how sweet!

"Facebook, actually. There's...something I want to check." I said, propping myself up on my elbows and poking my head above the back of the sofa to look at Bucky. He was busily chopping vegetables in the beautiful kitchenette.

"Ah. That's the one where you add friends and post statuses about random shit?" He glanced up from the wooden chopping board.

"Pretty much. I don't like it, especially. It annoys me."

"Why have it, then?" Bucky arched an eyebrow up at me.

"Dunno, really. Seemed like a thing to do. Plus, I kind of hoped people I added would see photos of me and think I lead an interesting life."

"Has that happened?"

"Ha. No."

"Well. I'm sure not many of them can say they've travelled to another universe, right? That's gotta be interesting?"

"Yep. Only, there may be questions regarding my sanity if I were to tell people about that. **If** I ever get back home, that is."

"We'll do our best to help you." Bucky promised genially.

"I appreciate that." I said, in a heartfelt tone. At that very moment, Steve came flitting back into sight, the iPad-at last-in his clutches.

 

"Found it! Here you go, Sophie!" He passed it to me. I accepted it with thanks, but was distracted by the curious choice of apparel he had. More precisely, the blue and green gingham apron he had tied about his neck and waist.

"Hmm...that's...not what I expected to see you wearing..." I remarked uncomfortably.

"I know, I know. I wanted to get one in tartan, but they didn't have any with these colours. I had to settle with gingham." Steve explained, plucking at the apron contemptuously.

"Oh." I smiled a tight-lipped smile.

"I was _**offered**_ a personalised apron by-" He peered over at Bucky, and cleared his throat, "-a certain, um, abrasive billionaire...but it had a very inappropriate message on it-"

"Inappropriate?"

"I believe it read 'Here's the cook' with an arrow pointing upward, and 'Here's the super-soldier' with an arrow pointing down-" Steve looked incensed at the suggestive nature of the apron. I snorted into the back of my hand.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh but-" I snickered like a naughty school-child.

"You've told Sophie about _**that**_ apron, haven't you?" Bucky asked drily.

"How-" Steve was baffled.

"Steven Grant Rogers, I may be in my nineties, but I am the _**opposite**_ of **deaf**."

"Oh Buck, not again-"

"Stark _**still**_ tries to treat you like his 'special guy'. He needs to get over you, and accept that _**we**_ are together now." Bucky started chopping a bell pepper a little more aggressively.

"I understand, Buck, but you know what he's like."

"Yes I do! Which is _**precisely**_ why we have to make it blatantly clear that his little _**demonstrations of affection**_ are _**unwanted**_!" The poor bell pepper was being hacked ruthlessly into small pieces.

"It's not easy with someone like Tony. He can be stubborn and persistent when he wants to be."

"Well then he should have **cherished** you when he had the chance! He should have made you feel special every day! He should have treasured your love! And he should have treated you far, _**far**_ better than he did-instead of acting like a dirty, sex-crazed asshole!" A loud, 'thunk' rang clear through the apartment, and Bucky stood by the counter, slightly breathless. With his bionic hand, he seized the handle of the knife, and yanked it out of the chopping board. As he did so, the **two halves** of the wooden chopping board split apart and skittered across the counter by an inch or so, sending the diced cubes of pepper across the smooth granite surface. He'd managed to _**slice a chopping board**_.

 

"Bucky..." Steve uttered softly, approaching his lover timorously. I ducked down on the sofa, feeling awkward for the second time that day.

"I'm sorry, Stevie. I'm not mad at **you**. I hate being so sensitive and ending up taking out my frustrations on you-it's not fair." Bucky apologised sorrowfully.

"I understand, Buck. Look, it's been causing you a lot of upset lately-I'm gonna talk to him about this. It's not fair on _**you**_ to have to deal with this." Steve told him firmly. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"'Course I do, you punk. Til the end of the line, right?"

"Til the end of the line."

My inner fangirl desperately wanted to squeak with utter delight at the famous line the two men exchanged. No matter the nature of the fan fiction, that line almost always made a welcome apperance. Instead of squeaking like a mad fool, I just peeped over the sofa, and saw them embracing tenderly.

"No more outbursts, I swear, Steve. And I'm sorry about the chopping board."

"I can't say I blame you, Buck. But I promise, we'll get this resolved once and for all. I hate seeing you so upset. And don't worry about the chopping board, we've got another." They held one another, momentarily casting aside their troubles as remained safe, secure and warm in each other's arms.

"You two are so lovely together." I piped up, unable to contain myself. Bucky cocked his head to one side, peering past Steve's broad shoulder. Steve, himself, swivelled his head around. Both grinned handsomely, evidently bemused by my little observation. I giggled timidly, and ducked down again, cursing myself for being so corny. I brought the iPad out of its sleep mode and flicked my finger across the screen to find the Facebook app. After tapping on it, I dogmatically entered my details and logged in. Unsurprisingly, I got a brief message about the account 'not existing'. I didn't panic too much-and instead, moved on to 'Plan B'.

 

"Um...sorry about this, but do either of you have an account I can log in with? Apparently, I don't exist."

"Neither of us have a personal account, but we do have an official fan page on Facebook. Oh, and the page dedicated to Thor's intriguing remarks..." Steve told me.

"Let's be honest, Steve, that page comprises mostly of shirtless photos of him." Bucky said.

"Well...whatever wins the heart of the people. The fact remains, he's happy to pose for them." Steve replied plaintively.

"Sex sells, Steve. Or more precisely, sex gains followers. There's a page that pretty much only has pictures of your ass in the suit. _**Five million followers**_!" Bucky's eyes widened. Steve groaned in exasperation.

"Really? But...I don't just want to be some sex symbol. I want to be a symbol of justice and freedom, someone people can look up to and admire-" 

"Trust me, you **are** someone they can admire...just not in the PG rated way." Bucky snorted, patting his boyfriend consolingly on the shoulder. "Steve, you need to accept that we're an attractive group of people-not being conceited or anything-we're going to be desired for more than our heroics! Christ, I came across a story someone had written about me, involving some pretty unorthodox uses of my metal arm-"

"Buck!" Steve gasped.

"Ah, the metal arm kink. I know it well." I interjected in the manner of some sage elder, imbuing someone with knowledge.

"I don't understand why you're so uncomfortable with being a hero _**and**_ a sex symbol, Steve. There's no shame in it-embrace it! We live in a liberated world!"

"I suppose..." Steve conceded reluctantly.

"Can someone please help me log into Facebook?" I asked, on the verge of despair.

"Oh boy, sorry, Sophie. Here-" Steve whisked over to me and plucked the iPad from my hands. He steadily tapped in the details, apparently getting to grips with 'touchscreen' technology. He handed it back to me, now logged in.

"Thank you, Steve. I just...I just want to see if any of my friends are..." I ceased explaining, glancing at him apprehensively. He offered a sympathetic smile.

"I understand. Good luck."

 

Tremulously, I entered the name of one of my dearest friends into the search bar. My heart thumped quickly as it loaded the results. In a sense, I expected there to be nothing, yet I also prayed she would appear. Even though she wouldn't know me in this universe, I would at least know she existed...

Nothing. Just women with the same name. I felt a knot form in my chest, and swallowed hard to remove an ache growing in my throat.

I entered another close friend's name.

She didn't exist, either.

I tried friend after friend, and in utter desperation, I began searching for random people I'd once been friends with on Facebook, but had never spoken more than two words to.

Nobody I knew existed in this world.

The soft, sorrowful crooning of the singer on Steve's record made the pain inside of me swell. ' _ **I'll be seeing you....in all the old familiar places**_....'

The agony of longing for my beloved friends, my mum and my brother washed over me like a tidal wave. I gently placed the iPad on the floor, beside the couch, and curled up on the cushions, wrapping my arms around myself-my back hurting horribly as I did so.

I felt tears welling and stinging my eyes. My body started to tremble and quake with silent sobs.

My best friends...the laughter, the conversations, the hugs, the true sense of contentment...wiped away. My mother's love was now a universe away. All of these things I cherished had been torn from me by Loki.

"Sophie? Any joy with finding them?" Steve's voice pierced my bubble of self-pity. I couldn't bring myself to reply-only whimpering quietly and sniffling. "Sophie?" He asked once more, becoming concerned. I'd shut my eyes by this point, so I couldn't see him make his way over to me, around the sofa-but I could certainly sense him.

"Oh, Sophie..." He sounded fully of pity and remorse. I let out a wretched wail, body wracked with sobs.

"They're not even alive! They're all _**gone**_!" I wept. Steve placed a hand on my head, and stroked my hair in an attempt to console me. Bucky came over to investigate, leaning over the back of the sofa to see the house guest blubbering away.

"Sophie, we'll find a way to get you back home! Don't give up on us yet. Besides, it's not like you're all alone. You've got us!"

"Was that supposed to be comforting?" Bucky said slyly.

"Not helping, Buck." Steve replied sardonically. "Oh, Sophie, please don't cry..." He pleaded, rubbing my back in what was probably meant to be a soothing fashion-but led to him being dreadfully startled by me shrieking loudly-

"AHH! MY BACK!" Waves of searing pain tore through me.

 

"Oh God! I'm so sorry, Sophie!" He apologised frantically. I snarled and moaned in severe discomfort.

"Nice work, Steve, you distracted her from her emotional agony with physical agony." Bucky remarked. Steve shot his boyfriend a wonderfully reproachful look.

"Bucky, _**not helping**_ !" He snapped.

"WHERE ARE THE FUCKING PAINKILLERS?!" I bellowed at nobody in particular.

"They're on their way, they're on their way! You'll be okay soon, I swear!" Steve insisted, all of a dither. "Christ, what's taking Bruce so long?!"

Almost immediately, a door was thrown open and someone came barging in.

"I found it! Here we go, Sophie, this should help relax your muscles-" Bruce's voice rang clear through the mind-fogging pain.

"Eurgh, not _**all**_ of them I hope." Bucky said queasily.

"No, just the ones that are spasming and causing the pain, Bucky." Bruce whisked into view, crouching down in front of me, a syringe in his hand. "I'll have to inject this into a vein, Sophie. Are you okay to hold out your arm?"

I thrust my arm out, baring the noticeable blue vein at the juncture between my upper and forearm. "Just take away the pain, please." I implored hoarsely.

"Here we go, Sophie-" Bruce held my arm, gently. "Clench your hand into a fist." He told me. I did so. I soon felt a sharp prick of the needle as it pierced my skin. There was a strange 'cold burn' as it was slightly pushed further into the vein. I watched Bruce inject the medication into my arm, passively. Steve was observing intently, something resembling concern mingled with curiosity etched into the planes of his face. After Bruce slid the syringe out, he pressed a ball of cotton wool over my vein, watching my face closely. We all remained silent for a while, waiting with baited breath.

 

"Is it working?" Bucky broke the momentary silence.

"It should do soon." Bruce spoke quietly. The pain gradually faded into non-existence. The cold perspiration on my back and forehead began to dry, and I felt incredibly relaxed.

"It's working..." I said sleepily. In fact, I started to feel even better than relaxed. I was positively serene.

"Good. You can rest for a bit, help speed your recovery along." Bruce said.

"I don't wanna sleep...it's working....reeeeeally well...." I told him, in a delightfully euphoric daze. I saw Bruce's face fall, his swarthy complexion turn pale.

"Oh..."

"Oh?" Steve asked worriedly, frowning.

"Steeeeve....why are you so tense? Life is good...turn that frown upside down...." I said without thinking. Normally, I would have been embarrassed about coming out with such random declarations-but I seemed to lose my inhibitions.

"Uh oh." Bruce sounded _**very**_ anxious.

 

"Bruce, what have you done?" Bucky inquired. I rolled onto my pain-free back and held my hands up to stroke his face affectionately.

"Bucky Bucky Bucky...Buck-a-roooooooo....whoooo! You're so b-b-b-beautiful...I want you to have my babies..." I told him nonchalantly.

"Well, I'm pretty sure this wasn't meant to happen. Seriously, what the fuck did you give her?" Bucky queried the doctor.

"Oh no, please no." Bruce groaned into his hands.

"I feel sooooo great! Shhh now, my darling, soon you'll be pregnant...and I will become the Mother of Dragons!" I announced, still petting Bucky's face.

"Bruce, I really hope you have something to fix this." Steve said. I flipped over onto my side and waved my fingers at him.

"No! No! I have to save the Hobbits first!" I insisted, with urgency.

" **Gentleman, just to warn you all in advance- Mr Stark, Director Fury, Agent Coulson, Mr Howlett and Mr Wilson will be arriving shortly**. **I would highly recommend resolving this current issue as promptly as is possible**." JARVIS, Tony Stark's A.I, warned. I, at the time, interpreted JARVIS somewhat bizarrely-

"Ahhh...oh no... _ **God**_ , is that you? You exist? Why do you sound like Paul Bettany? Oh goodness....but we've got visitors...I need to get undressed quickly!" I announced, leaping up from the sofa and sprinting towards the main entrance.

"Oh shit." Was all I heard from behind me.

 

After that, I couldn't remember what happened...but I would soon find out...

 


	4. Please Tell Me I Didn't Do That...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I just want to say-this is the single, weirdest, 'crack-y' chapter I have ever written in my life. So, I won't blame you if you're confounded. I'm hoping, though, that you folks find it amusing at least :3
> 
> As you can tell, there are a few references my character makes in her 'trippy' state :D but most of the bizarre things said are original creations, so I'm not 'pinching' too many things... ^.^
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! :D

"...Stark, you'd better hope this issue gets fixed quickly, or else my boot is gonna be doing the 'meet-and-greet' with your sorry ass!" Snarled a voice that sounded distinctly like Samuel L Jackson.

"What?! I wasn't the one that gave her a _**narcotic**_ instead of pain-relief! Why am I getting the blame?!" 'Tony Stark' (or more precisely, Robert Downey Jr) protested.

"It wasn't a narcotic, it was a chemical I synthesised to increase my tolerance to external stimuli so I don't Hulk out unneccesarily!" I heard Bruce argue.

"Did it work?" Tony inquired.

"Not especially. I...um...experienced some of the side effects Sophie demonstrated."

"I'd love to see the Hulk get high, personally." Tony chimed.

"Would you like to see the Hulk strip naked and start dancing on your receptionist's desk?" Bruce questioned him laconically.

"Hmm. On second thoughts, I retract my previous statement."

" _ **Back to the point**_ \- I don't care if you pumped an eighteen year old girl with a potent _**chemical**_ or not, Stark, it happened _**in your goddamn home**_! Barnes contacted you a whole  **three quarters of an hour** before the incident-and we coulda got here before then! But NO! You wanted your goddamn, motherfuckin' QUARTER POUNDER AND MILKSHAKE!" 'Fury' bellowed.

 "Fury, you seem so tense! Have you thought about going to a spa or something? Y'know, unwind with a nice buff and polish for your head-"

"Tony, I would recommend shutting up right now." I heard Steve advise.

 

Waking up properly from this semi-conscious state, my eyes were bleary as I slowly opened them-adjusting to the light. I felt a heavy weight resting on top of me, and squirmed around, wondering what was resting on or over me. Eyelids fluttering slightly, I opened my eyes properly-only to shriek at the sight before me.

A red mask, with large, black, indistinct shapes over the eyes-the white, iris-less eyes staring down at me-

"HEY! HEY! She's awake! I'm a total boss at this 'monitoring' shit!" The 'man behind the mask' spoke in an hyper tone. I imagined his voice, if it were to have a physical manifestation of its own, as being an overly-enthusiastic chihuahua puppy on speed.

"For Christ's sake, Deadpool, get off of her!" A gruff voice barked at him. _**Hugh Jackman?**_ I wondered....

"I'm 'above' her on, not on her! Makin' sure she doesn't try running off!" Deadpool gently poked my forehead with a gloved hand.

"You're in the fucking missionary position, you scumbag."

" _ **Mercenary position**_ , actually!" He corrected the other man, affrontedly, before lowering his voice as if speaking to me personally- "It's like the missionary position, except with _**yours truly**_   showin' you a good time!" He somehow managed to wink with the mask on.

"DEADPOOL!"

"Fine! Fine!" He leapt off of me dexterously. "Jeez, guys, way to kill the mood! That's the first time I've been on top of a girl and not had her yell at me in disgust and push me off!"

"Christ on a bicycle..." Steve muttered frustratedly. I looked around, alarmed and afraid, and sprang up into a seated position. I saw that I was in a laboratory, resting on a long table, surrounded by the Avengers I'd already met, Deadpool-ever one for making a lasting first impression, Tony Stark, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson _**and**_   Wolverine. The overload of input, the confusion, the disorientation had me crying out.

 

"Where am I?! What's going on?! Why am I here?! Steve! Bucky!" I whimpered, sounding like a vulnerable child, lost in a sea of people, looking for a missing parent. I swivelled my head around, taking in the setting and feeling nothing but distress.

"Sophie, Sophie, it's okay. You're okay." Steve came up to me, gently holding onto my hands to placate me. I stared at him, frightened out of my wits. "Do you remember how you got here?" He asked me.

"Loki-Loki sent me!"

"Yes, but I mean, do you remember how you got _**here**_ , specifically?" He spoke quietly.

"I remember Bruce giving me something to take away my back pain. But then I started saying this really-really weird stuff and...then I think I ran out of the room. I can't recall anything after that." I said, eyes widening in horror.

"We can! I've got security camera footage if you want to see. That was one hell of a drug Bruce gave you-" Tony snorted with laughter. Steve cast a menacing scowl at the playboy billionaire. "Oh, Steve, c'mon, where's your sense of humour gone?"

"I still have one. I just don't take pleasure out of other people's misfortune." Steve replied scornfully.

"Bullshit!"

"I WANT CHIMICHANGAS!" Deadpool declared loudly. None of the others paid heed to his outburst-but it appeared he didn't particularly give any consideration to it himself, as he suddenly began teleporting here and there in the laboratory, happily entertaining himself.

"Steve must have had a sense of humour to date you, Stark." Bucky grumbled.

"Frosty, are you getting your flowing locks in a twist  **again** because I know just as much about Steve as _**you do**_? For the record, I was there for him-from the moment he got off the ice. I was there to help him through the shit he was feeling about _**you**_ -" Tony argued, jabbing his finger at the ex-assassin. Bucky's face contorted with rage-

"Fuck you, you arrogant piece of shit!" He spat acridly at the engineer.

"Not this again..." Coulson kneaded his forehead, tiredly, with his fingertips.

"Ooo! Cat fight! Barnes, Barnes, Barnes-bitch slap him with your metal hand!" Deadpool jeered.

"Stop getting at each other's throats, you two! I want to see the footage! Now!" I called out, clearly, with a stern authority I'd rarely heard in my voice before. Everyone stared at me, as I glared defiantly at them all.

 

"Well, I can't argue with that. JARVIS, can you patch through all surveillance footage involving Tea-and-Scones here? Including the audio?" Tony asked his A.I.

" **Of course, sir. Right away**."

"'Tea-and-Scones'?" I repeated, brows knitting together in a frown.

"What would you prefer? 'Fish-and-chips'? ' ** _Wheelie-bins_** ' ? 'Tea-and-Scones' is a much nicer pet name for you, my feisty English muffin." Tony insisted, completely unfazed and paying no heed to Deadpool's titters over the word 'muffin'.

"Hmm...I guess it is." I conceded tiredly. Tony brought one of the lab monitors across, allowing me to view the footage.

" **Footage has been transferred to the laboratory, sir.** " JARVIS informed.

"Okay. Brace yourself, Tea-and-Scones. It's not exactly glamorous." Tony stretched the video file across, to fit the dimensions of the large screen.

"Oh God, what did I do?" I asked in a quiet, terrified voice.

 

The first few minutes of the security recording simply showed Steve carrying me to his and Bucky's living quarters, brief dialogue exchanged between the two about fetching Bruce to tend to me. The recording seemed to jump slightly, having had the unneccessary footage omitted. What I saw next made me gape in horror.

In my 'drugged-up' state, I'd made a manic dash for the elevator. Bucky, Steve and Bruce had followed in pursuit, but were too late, the doors having shut almost immediately. Whilst in the elevator I'd begun stripping off to my underwear frantically, explaining to JARVIS, quite earnestly, my life's ambition of becoming a unicorn. JARVIS-if it could be described as such- _**sweetly**_ listened to my ramblings, and even accepted my referring to him as 'Paul'.

" _ **Hey, Paul...do you think...do you think it would be better to be a cockatoo....or a parrot? I personally think it would be best to be a marmoset.**_ "

" **I'm inclined to agree with you, Miss Tavistock. If given the choice between two species of the avian class, I would certainly prefer to be of the primate family. Though perhaps an emperor tamarin as opposed to a marmoset.** " JARVIS replied, as though I was engaging him in perfectly valid, logical conversation.

" _ **You know...you know what I like about you, Paul? You just-you get me, y'know? I feel like I've gone through life not being understood, but it's like you're on the same wavelength as me. You're like the big pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and I'm the happy little leprechaun, dancing her heart out** **!**_ "

" **Thank you, Miss Tavistock, for that...intriguing compliment.** "

" _ **No! No! Even better- you, Paul, are my rainbow! You are a beautiful rainbow-when you speak, kittens take their first steps into this world. Babies smile! Pandas make passionate love to one another! You...you are the nicest voice I've ever met!**_ "

" **Thank you, Miss Tavistock...** " The poor A.I actually sounded completely bewildered. The recording then showed the elevator stopping, the doors sliding open to reveal the Avengers' Floor. I happily departed and skipped into the large room, abadoning my discarded clothes.

" ** _Oh...my...gosh!_** " I'd gasped, before dropping down onto the floor and rolling around, making a strange array of noises. I then desisted rolling across the floor, face pressed against the linoleum, my posterior proudly thrust up in the air. " _ **Oh no...oh no...I must summon Commander Shepard. THE REAPERS ARE COMING! THE REAPERS ARE COMING! SHEPARD, THEY'RE BRINGING THEIR PET THRESHER MAW! HELP! MY BUTT SENSES ARE TINGLING!**_ " I hollered at nobody in particular.

 

"Oh Jesus...Bruce what did you give me?!" I wailed. Bruce flashed an apologetic look at me. Everyone else was focusing intently on the humiliating footage-some with exasperated expressions, others desperately refraining from smirking.

 

" _ **I need to perform the summoning ritual! Shepard must be busy! I'll try Master Chief!**_ " I said, in the footage, with such vehemence. I then sprang up from the floor, and bounded towards one of the sofas, and snatched up a folded blanket. In a bizarrely purposeful fashion, I unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around my head, in some semblance of an African head scarf. I then bolted out of sight, to retrieve something-which turned out to be a mop and a jar of coffee grains. Without a moment's hesitation, I unscrewed the cap and scattered the coffee grains over the floor in an indecipherable shape, but with equal determination. I'd then thrown the jar across the room and began hopping from one foot to the other, imitating the chant from 'Hooked On A Feeling'.

 

By this point, Tony, Deadpool, Wolverine and Bucky were sniggering or cackling with laughter. Fury's face was murderous, Coulson and Bruce just looked tired of this shit, and Steve had his hand clapped over his eyes in sympathetic shame. I stared at the screen, horrified.

 

In the recording, Steve, Bucky and Bruce had finally discovered my whereabouts, and were attempting to 'catch me'. They surrounded me cautiously, fencing me in. I was seemingly oblivious or electing to ignore their presence in favour of dancing, shaking the mop as though it were some tribal staff. Steve had my clothes in his arms, and was proffering them in my direction.

" _ **Sophie...do you...do you maybe want to put your things back on**_ _ **? Or perhaps, you could put the mop down for a few seconds ?**_ " He suggested warily.

" _ **No! I can't put my clothes back on- they're the shackles that destroy my connection with the universe! Without them, I'm free! Free to expand my mind !**_ " I protested.

" _ **I wouldn't...I wouldn't go so far as to say that-**_ "

" _ **It's true! The Visitors created them to bind us to the cold under-belly of the galaxy!**_ " I argued, waving the mop at Steve forbiddingly.

" _ **Jesus, she's completely fucked up. What kind of drugs are you cooking in that lab of yours, Walter White**_ _ **?!**_ " Bucky had demanded of Bruce.

" _ **In fact, I still have some of their evil creations severing the ties between me and the galaxy**_ -" I'd dropped the mop onto the floor with a clatter, and made to remove my underwear. Steve, mortified, waved his arms and started to persuade me into maintaining the dregs of my dignity.

 " _ **NO! No, don't-don't do that, Sophie ! If you...if you remove those, you'll-um-expose yourself to the wrath of the Visitors**_ _ **-**_ " He glanced at Bucky and Bruce for some form of approval or assistance, but they merely shrugged their shoulders, looking vexed. " _**Yeah...yeah...um...if you completely...um...re-establish your link to the galaxy, then...the Visitors will be able to track you down. Yeah. They've, um, formulated some kind of...errr...detection method...to sense if someone's removed their shackles**_ _ **...**_ "

" _ **He's telling the truth, Sophie. Those Visitors...they're sneaky bastards**_." Bucky corroborated. In my state, I seemed to consider this very seriously.

" _ **Oh. Oh goodness. Well, thank you! You saved me!**_ " I paused, staring blankly ahead of me. " _ **Where are we going**_ _ **?**_ " I inquired, seemingly forgetting the past ten minutes. The three Avengers used this to their tactical advantage.

" _ **Sophie, we're actually on our way to the lab. We just had to sort something out here...why don't we get back in the elevator**_ _ **?**_ " Bruce proposed. I accepted this, vacantly, and wandered off in the direction of the elevator, still donning my blanket head-dress. The three men followed tentatively, as if I would lash out any minute.

 

"Nicely done, guys. You really played it cool there." Tony commented, in the midst of jubilant guffaws.

"Shuddup, Tony..." Steve muttered.

"It worked, didn't it?" Bruce rallied, in defence of their methods.

 

I made disjointed conversation during the descent, including the telling of a rather strange joke-

" _ **Hey.....hey....why are butt pirates butt pirates**_ _**?**_ "

" _ **Enlighten us.**_ " Bucky responded darkly.

" _ **Because they just arrrrrrrrrrrrrre....FRUITS**_ _ **!**_ " I brayed with manic laughter.

" _ **Well, Sophie, I'm not going to class that as Apollo material, but it's something**_." Bruce patted me on the shoulder gently.

" _ **I really like pizza. Can I have some pizza later on?  I like pizza.**_ " I said, like a content child.

" _ **Sure, Sophie. We'll get you some pizza**_." Steve assured me.

" _ **Oo, oo, I like ice cream, too. Can I have some ice cream**_?"

" _ **We'll get you ice cream. Any flavour in particular**_ _ **?**_ "

" _ **I like ice cream**_." I repeated in answer to his question.

" _ **Okay, maybe that's a question for a later time**_ _ **?**_ "

" _ **Can I feel your butt**_ _ **?**_ " I piped up nonchalantly, staring at Steve ravenously. " _ **You've got such a nice butt.**_ " I remarked, unabashedly ogling his backside, making Steve flush. The national icon squared his shoulders uncomfortably, and deflected the question-

" _ **Um. Ask** **Bucky** **. He kind of called shotgun on my butt**_ ** _. It's been his for a while_** ** _._** "

 

"Oh, has it now, Steve? Is that so?" Tony goaded the super-soldier.

"Don't. Even. Go There."

"What are you gonna do about it, Tin Man?" Bucky scoffed. "That fine ass was mine in the forties. I called shotgun before you were born."

"Please don't encourage him, Buck." Steve pleaded.

"No, let him say his piece, Steve. C'mon, Princess Elsa, what else have you got to say?" Tony taunted the ex-assassin.

"Are you really having this argument _**now**_?" Coulson demanded.

 

" _ **I won't touch your bottom, not if you don't give consent. I respect consent,**_ _ **Steve .**_ " I said, as though demonstrating my moral standards. " _ **What exactly is 'pegging' ?**_ " I queried them spontaneously.

Bucky had doubled over, spluttering in hysterics. Steve just turned a shade of red a tomato would envy. Bruce merely rolled his eyes up into his head, weary of today's events.

" _ **It's awkward to explain...**_ " Steve replied, with great difficulty.

" _ **Oh. Okay. Hey, do you guys want to know the difference between clitoral orgasms and vaginal orgasms ?**_ " I inquired blithely. Bucky, by that point, was hooting and wheezing with the laughter.

" _ **No, I think we're okay.**_ " Steve politely refused.

" _ **I'll tell you anyway! Clitorial orgasms are AMAZING! It feels like you're about to explode in a good way-**_ "

" _ **Oh-kay, Sophie, thank you for that information-**_ "

" _ **Vaginal orgasms are kind of like...pffftttt. Meh. Unless you find the enigmatic G-spot, in which case-it's like Armageddon in your hoo-hoo. I can't find mine, I've tried and tried. Or I'm not doing it right? I don't know. It's a shame, really, I've wanted to find out what it's like to have a female ejaculation**_ -"

" _ **Thank you...Sophie. That's-that's enough for today**_ _ **.**_ " Steve cut across me, deeply uncomfortable. Bucky, on the other hand, had collapsed onto his knees, clutching his stomach, with his head on the floor of the elevator-cackling crazily. The position he was in made him appear to be in the midst of worshipping a deity of humour.

 

"Well, we just learned so much more about you for having seen that." Tony remarked jestingly.

"Awwww yeah! _**Boner engaged**_!" Deadpool proclaimed effervescently. "Sophie! Sophie! I volunteer as tribute to finding your G-spot!"

"Oh God..." I sighed woefully. The scarlet-clad mercenary teleported so he was right next to me. He leant towards me, a hand on his hip-and somehow-I could sense him leering filthily.

"So, baby, how many times did you try and find your- _**OW**_!"

"Deadpool, I swear to God, if you don't shut up-I will ram Bucky's metal fist up your spandex-covered ass!" Steve growled, after having back handed the mercenary across the head.

 

" _ **Have you ever wondered....why do we cook bacon...and bake cookies?**_ " My drugged-out self, in the footage, contemplated aloud.

" _ **Here we go...**_ " Steve's head dropped in exhaustion.

" _ **If you have a 'lap' when you sit down....where does it go when you stand up?**_ " I was evidently having an existential crisis. " _ **What is the part behind our knee called ?**_ "

" _ **Actually, it's called the popliteal fossa . I'm afraid that's the only one of your questions I can answer, Sophie .**_ " Bruce said kindly. I clapped my hands to the sides of my hand, as if the input of information was causing some sort of cranial malfunction. I let out a shriek, and slammed the emergency stop button-the doors sliding open to reveal the ground floor of Stark Tower.

" _ **I HAVE SEEN THE FACE OF BEELZEBUB-AND IT IS SQUIDWARD! HE'S COME TO HURT US ALL! HE'S COME TO HUMP US WITH HIS DEMON-Y BUTT !**_ " I cried, bolting out of the elevator.

" _ **For Christ's sake!**_ " Steve exclaimed. " _ **Bucky! Get up!**_ " The super-soldier seized hold of his boyfriend, still a chuckling heap on the floor, and yanked him up. The footage promptly switched to foyer's security camera view, showing me crouching on the receptionist's desk. I had pulled the blanket from my head and wrapped it around myself, turning into a gibbering wreck. The receptionist herself looked as petrified as I did. I started singing to myself the legendary tune- 'They're Taking The Hobbits To Isengard'-because my brain, at that point, had clearly turned into a giant mush of references and memes.

I'd timed my 'melt-down' with the arrival of Tony, Fury, Coulson, Wovlerine and Deadpool-all of whom were more than a tad alarmed. Except for Deadpool, that is. He was totally indifferent to the sight of an eighteen year old girl huddled up on a desk, singing a video remix song to herself. Upon seeing Tony, I squealed with elation, throwing my blanket off (revealing my underwear-clad self, which for some reason seemed to incite far more interest in Deadpool) and leaping down from the desk to greet him.

" ** _It's you! It's you! You're here to help me find the....save.....stop the....who are...where-_** " And like that, I collapsed against him. Thankfully, Tony caught me before I hit the ground unceremoniously, staring at me in utter confusion. He glanced at Steve, Bucky and Bruce, his mouth agape.

"I think there's some explaining to do." Was all Fury said, menacingly, before the footage ended.

 

"Please...please tell me that's not real." I begged, face in my hands, shaking my head in disbelief.

"It's real. Sorry, Tea-and-Scones." Tony said.

"You'll laugh about it one day, Sophie. For now, we can do the laughing for you." Bucky whooped jubilantly, before he, Deadpool and Tony chortled merrily. Wolverine's shoulders were shaking as he held back laughter. Even Bruce's mouth twitched into a smirk. I couldn't even fake a smile, and sat there on the table, utterly crestfallen and wretched. I saw Steve thump Bucky on the arm in my peripherals. Tony's chuckles died down, becoming further apart. I felt him observing me in my sorrowful state.

"Ahh. Tell you what, Ovaltine, I'll delete every single second of that footage."

"Really?" I peered up, hopeful.

"Yes. All of it. It won't ever leave this room. Besides, it's not like you were _**yourself**_. That was some strong stuff you got given-not pointing any fingers-" Tony said, whilst quite deliberately and openly jabbing his forefinger Bruce's direction. "If it's any consolation, I've done far weirder shit back in my dark days. Only I made the choice to use or consume those substances." He comforted me, unusually kind. "Hey, JARVIS, could you erase all security footage related to Sophie? No Youtube uploads today, my friend." He flashed a small smile at me to indicate he was joking.

" **Certainly, sir. The video file has been disposed of.** "

"Thank you." I whispered.

"Meh. Don't mention it."

"Now that that's been dealt with...can we return to the bigger issue of how in the fuck did Loki send someone here from another universe?" Fury demanded.

 

 

 


End file.
